Page 128 of Mr. Broody

“Oh.” There’s disappointment in his tone.

I cover my heart with my hand. “Hey, I’m fun.”

I insert the key in the lock, and he distracts me by placing his hand on my arm. I glance down, turning the key.

“I’m really happy.” His smile warms every nerve in my body. Then he walks into my house, takes off his shoes, and holds out his bag. “Where do I put this?”

“Just on the bench. Do you need help with your coat?”

He shrugs it off and places it neatly on the bench with his bag.

“Do you want a snack?” I ask, walking toward the kitchen.

“Did Victoria bake cookies?” He’s so excited he’s skipping down the hall. I love this just me and him thing. We haven’t done much of that.

I open the fridge and pull out an apple, then some peanut butter.

“An apple?” He groans.

“Yes, but I’ve got peanut butter to go with it. I’ve seen your dad make this for you.”

He slides up on a stool.

I wash the apple and grab a cutting board. “So, how was your day?”

“Willow has a crush on Micha.”

“A crush?” Seriously, they start with crushes this young?

“Yeah, she wants him to take her to the carnival.”

Oh, the St. Pat’s carnival—which isn’t much of a carnival at all, unless it’s changed since I went there. It’s just events the parents put on for the kids, and they can travel from classroom to classroom, playing games.

“That’s not until the spring.”

He nods. “Yeah. Guess she’s a planner.”

I stifle a laugh and put the apple slices on the plate before spooning out peanut butter to go with it. Before I pass it over to him, I snap a picture with my phone and attach it to a text for Henry.

Got Bodhi, and we’re at my house. Look, healthy snack.

He doesn’t respond, and I hope that’s because he’s sleeping.

“Did you send that to Daddy?” Bodhi scoops some peanut butter onto his apple and stares at my phone.

“Yeah. He’s got a game tonight.”

“Can we watch it?” he asks, and I have no idea if that’s something he usually does.

“Do you watch them with Mack?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“Then let’s make some popcorn and watch the game. You are allowed to have popcorn, right?”

He giggles and bites his apple. “Yeah,” he answers around a mouthful.

Damn, the pressure to make sure I don’t screw this up is intense. Henry’s putting a lot of trust in me, and I don’t want to disappoint him.

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